kind request,
With friendly step precedes the unknown guest,
A shaggy goat’s soft hide beneath him spread,
And with fresh rushes heaped an ample bed.
Joy touched the hero’s tender soul, to find
So just reception from a heart so kind;
And ‘O ye gods, with all your blessings grace’
(He thus broke forth) ‘this friend of human race!’
The swain replied: ‘It never was our guise
To slight the poor, or aught humane despise.
For Jove unfolds the hospitable door,
’T is Jove that sends the stranger and the poor.’ ”
These heathen people thought that after a breach of the rights of hospitality a curse from Heaven would attend them in every thing they did, and even their honest industry in their callings would fail of success. Thus when Ulysses tells Eumæus, who doubted the truth of what he related: “If I deceive you in this I should deserve death, and I consent that you should put me to death”; Eumæus rejects the proposal as what would be attended with both infamy and misfortune, saying ironically:
“Doubtless, O guest, great laud and praise were mine,
If, after social rites and gifts bestowed,
I stained my hospitable hearth with blood.
How would the gods my righteous toils succeed,
And bless the hand that made a stranger bleed?
No more.”
Even an open enemy, in the heat of battle, throwing down his arms, submitting to his foe, and asking life and protection, was supposed to acquire an immediate right to that protection. Thus one describes his being saved when his party was defeated:
“We turned to flight; the gathering vengeance spread
On all parts round, and heaps on heaps lie dead.
The radiant helmet from my brows unlaced,
And lo, on earth my shield and javelin cast,
I meet the monarch with a suppliant’s face,
Approach his chariot, and his knees embrace.
He heard, he saved, he placed me at his side;
My state he pitied, and my tears he dried;
Restrained the rage the vengeful foe expressed,
And turned the deadly weapons from my breast.
Pious to guard the hospitable rite,
And fearing Jove, whom mercy’s works delight.”
The suitors of Penelope are, by the same ancient poet, described as a set of lawless men, who were regardless of the sacred rights of hospitality. And, therefore, when the Queen was informed they were slain, and that by Ulysses, she, not believing that Ulysses was returned, says:
“Ah no! some god the suitors’ deaths decreed,
Some god descends, and by his hand they bleed;
Blind, to contemn the stranger’s righteous cause,
And violate all hospitable laws!
. . . The powers they defied;
But Heaven is just, and by a god they died.”
Thus much for the sentiments of the ancient heathens. As for the Turks, it is recorded in the Life of Mahomet, the founder of their religion, that Khaled, one of his captains, having divided a number of prisoners between himself and those that were with him, he commanded the hands of his own prisoners to be tied behind them, and then, in a most cruel and brutal manner, put them to the sword; but he could not prevail on his men to massacre their captives, because in fight they had laid down their arms, submitted, and demanded protection. Mahomet, when the account was brought to him, applauded the men for their humanity; but said to Khaled, with great indignation: “O Khaled, thou butcher, cease to molest me with thy wickedness. If thou possessedst a heap of gold as large as Mount Obod, and shouldst expend it all in God’s cause, thy merit would not efface the guilt incurred by the murder of the meanest of those poor captives.”
Among the Arabs or Saracens, though it was lawful to put to death a prisoner taken in battle, if he had made himself obnoxious by his former wickedness, yet this could not be done after he had once eaten bread, or drunk water, while in their hands. Hence we read in the history of the wars of the Holy Land, that when the Franks had suffered a great defeat from Saladin, and among the prisoners were the king of Jerusalem, and Arnold, a famous Christian captain, who had been very cruel to the Saracens; these two being brought before the Sultan, he placed the king on his right hand and Arnold on his left; and then presented the king with a cup of water, who immediately drank to Arnold; but when Arnold was about to receive the cup, the Sultan interrupted, saying: “I will not suffer this wicked man to drink, as that, according to the laudable and generous customs of the Arabs, would secure him his life.”
That the same laudable and generous custom still prevails among the Mahometans, appears from the account, but last year published, of his travels by Mr. Bell, of Antermony, who accompanied the Czar, Peter the Great, in his journey to Derbent through Daggestan. “The religion of the Daggestans,” says he, “is generally Mohammedan, some following the sect of Osman, others that of Haly. Their language for the most part is Turkish, or rather a dialect of the Arabic, though many of them speak also the Persian language. One article I cannot omit concerning their laws of hospitality, which is, if their greatest enemy comes under their roof for protection, the landlord, of what condition soever, is obliged to keep him safe, from all manner of harm or violence, during his abode with him, and even to conduct him safely through his territories to a place of security.”
From the Saracens this same custom obtained among the Moors of Africa; was by them brought into Spain, and there long sacredly observed. The Spanish historians record with applause one famous instance of it. While the Moors governed there, and the Spaniards were mixed with them, a Spanish cavalier in a sudden quarrel slew a young Moorish gentleman and fled. His pursuers soon lost sight of him; for he had, unperceived, thrown himself over a garden wall. The owner, a Moor, happening to be in his garden, was addressed by the Spaniard on his knees, who acquainted him with his case, and implored concealment. “Eat this,” said the Moor, giving him half a peach. “You now know that you may confide in my protection.” He then locked him up in his garden apartment, telling him that as soon as it was night he would provide for his escape to a place of more safety. The Moor then went into his house, where he had scarce seated himself when a great crowd, with loud lamentations, came to his gate, bringing the corpse of his son, that had just been killed by a Spaniard. When the first shock of surprise was a little over, he learnt from the description given that the fatal deed was done by the person then in his power. He mentioned this to no one; but as soon as it was dark retired to his garden apartment, as if to grieve alone, giving orders that none
